Wednesday afternoon
“What kind of dance?” Jack asked him, picking up the pamphlet and eyeing it suspiciously. It had shown up the previous evening taped to the side door—had perhaps, even, shown up while they’d been in the midst of what Mason was sure was firmly inked, underlined, and bolded in his memory as one of the best experiences of his life. It wouldn’t be the first time the owners of the cottage had stopped by with suggestions and offers of entertainment. And though the thought of potentially having been heard making some god-awful sound of lust by one of the two soft-spoken, courteous property owners made Mason a little self-conscious, he had no doubt that he wasn’t the first one to couple voraciously while on holidays. The fact that he was gay was no secret either. So it was kin
